


It still gets me where I wanna go

by isquinnabel



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:39:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/pseuds/isquinnabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes following Natalie Barrett's perspective of the events of Super Special #10, <i>Sea City Here We Come</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from [Surf City](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERrwjR4ZlfI) by Jan & Dean, because I've always always assumed that the title of the actual book was a reference to that song. At the very least, I'd always get it stuck in my head whenever I looked at the cover or the spine. So it seemed like the right choice for a title!
> 
> This series was written for the babysitters100 challenge, so each chapter title is the name of the prompt I used.
> 
> Epic beachy thank yous to ozqueen for betaing!

The kids are fighting and Buddy nearly breaks a window.

It's too early in the day to snap. Only 9:30.

\---

She impatiently taps her feet, listening for Marnie's little hey-mommy-I'm-awake ditty. As soon as the baby's up and dressed, they're outta there. Bundle into snow clothes and troop over to the Pikes', that's the game plan. "Any time is fine," Dee had said breezily. "Whenever's convenient for you."

_Convenient_ is too strong a word, really. Doesn't matter what time it is: there'll always be three kids to round up and only one pair of hands to do it.

\---

A light flurry hits the Pikes' as soon as they arrive. The timing is beautiful: eight Pikes and three Barretts immediately stomp out footprints, claiming sections of the yard for the sorts of games that (hopefully) leave kids drained of energy, setting them up for a good night's sleep.

She sits inside with Dee, strong cup of coffee in hand. They sit on a battered sofa which, she knows, has _Adam rulez_ scrawled somewhere in marker. Hidden by the folds of upholstery.

She loves the Pike house and its air of barely-contained chaos. It's oddly calming. Reassuring.  
(She had coffee at the Prezziosos once. Never again.)

"So how's Franklin?" Dee asks with a wry smile.  
She takes a carefully nonchalant sip of coffee. "Good, so far. But, well... I'm not overthinking it. It's only been a few weeks."  
"Six."  
"Six," she agrees. Sighs. "I guess that's more than a few weeks."  
"Some would say it's over a month."  
She groans. "I don't want to overthink it." Pause. "But I don't want to underthink it either."  
"Underthinking it isn't going to be your problem, Nat."  
She smiles. "Yeah. I know."

Shouts and thuds echo from the yard. Nothing that sounds too dire, but her eyes do a quick sweep of the yard to make sure Marnie's still safe with Mallory.

She is.

"I like him. I'm going to keep seeing him." She shrugs.  
Dee curls up in the corner of the sofa. "So... where do you see yourself in six months time?"  
"I see myself in shorts," is her rapid-fire response. "With a broken air-conditioner."  
Dee accepts the non-answer with a wistful grin. "Mmm, sun."  
"I can't wait for the weather to warm up."  
"These morning chills are a bit much," agrees Dee. "Feels like they've been going forever."  
"Any plans for the summer?"  
"Not really. I mean, other than heading to the Jersey shore for two weeks. It's our little family tradition." She rolls her eyes. "Nicky asked me yesterday how many sleeps til we leave for Sea City."  
"Buddy's been bugging me about vacations too," she frowns. "It's been years since we last took a family trip." _When are we going on vacation, Mom?_ has been a catch-cry of his since long before the divorce. During the dying gasps of their marriage, neither she nor Hamilton could stomach the idea of a family vacation.

Now, the idea of single-parenting on vacation seems almost worse.

"You could hit Sea City with us," suggests Dee.  
"We could what?"  
"Come to Sea City. There are plenty of cheap rentals, and it's a great place for kids."

She fiddles with a strand of hair. It's... not a terrible idea. Or maybe it is.

"But it's your family tradition, Dee. It's a Pike thing. I wouldn't want to impose."  
"Oh, please," laughs Dee. "My gang would love it. Besides, we've brought Stacey and Mary Anne along the past few years, so it's already grown beyond our family."

It almost sounds manageable: built-in playmates for the kids; John and Dee's reassuring presence; the possibility of an extra pair of hands. (Teenage hands. But still. Hands are hands.)

"You've got months to think it through, Nat. If you decide to join us, you're more than welcome."  
She breathes out, slowly.  
"Yeah. I'll think about it."

\---

Overnight, Suzi develops a cold. She coughs loudly enough to wake herself up. Three times.

Summer can't come fast enough.


	2. Adult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in chapter 4 of the original, with some dialogue taken from canon.

The week before vacation should be: lists and lists and lists; packing, unpacking, and repacking; hyperactive children; more lists.  
The week before vacation actually is: hyperactive children. And nothing else.

Packing doesn't even begin until the day before they leave, and lists go missing too fast to be worth the trouble of writing any. Even so, the whole process is only a minor disaster. Everything they could possibly need eventually makes it into the trunk. (Packing the car is not the biggest hurdle: _driving_ it is. She's never driven so far, especially not as the sole adult responsible for a carload of kids. Four, if you count Stacey McGill.

No. That's not 'til tomorrow. One crisis at a time.)

 

\---

 

Zero hour.

House locked, kids settled (ish), ready to go. She pulls out of the driveway, and Suzi cheers.

First stop is the McGill house, and Maureen looks almost ready to faint. Natalie's too busy feigning confidence in her driving ability to think of anything reassuring to say. Everything that floats across her brain is ridiculous and melodramatic ( _I promise not to let your only child fall into a diabetic coma and die_ , for example). She keeps up a cheery flow of conversation, helping Stacey with her suitcase and thanking her profusely for agreeing to come.

It's all about the fake confidence. If she tries hard enough, she can even fool herself. Probably.  
This trip is going to be absolutely fine.

Except that two minutes after leaving the McGill's, a BANG _BANG_ jolts the car.  
"Oh!" she gasps. "What did I do?"  
It's not a literal question, it's an _oh hell, did I really just do that?_. Stacey tells some story about her dad always driving onto the curb, but Natalie doesn't listen.

She locks her elbows. Grips the wheel. Answers Stacey with a tight-lipped "Mhm."  
Eyes on the road. Eyes on Dee's car, dead ahead.

 _Thank you for visiting Stoneybrook._  
"When are we gonna stop?"  
"Buddy!" she snaps. "Can't you see I'm driving? I have to follow the Pikes or we'll get lost."

 

\---

 

Incident #2 is worse.  
She despises highway driving, it makes her feel anxious and claustrophobic. There are cars everywhere: left, right, front, back. The intermittent shouts of the license-plate game don't help her frayed nerves, and they make the car feel increasingly tiny. When some jerk swerves towards her from an entrance ramp, she slams the brakes with a shriek and the car skids.

The kids scream, and Marnie wakes up with a wail.  
" _Shit_ ," she hisses.

 

\---

 

The atmosphere in the car rapidly deteriorates. She's tense and stressed, and the kids easily pick up on it.

The rest stop is a welcome reprieve, but that almost makes returning to the car even worse. Marnie clings to the high chair, desperate to be anywhere that isn't the car. She struggles fruitlessly against her car seat, and then the screaming begins.

She'd berate herself for letting their vacation get off to this sort of start, but she's too busy trying to _get_ there.

When John's car vanishes from the highway, it's the final straw. She completely loses her head and panics about being lost, scaring herself (and possibly Stacey) with visions of ending up in the wrong state.

 

\---

 

 _Welcome to Sea City!_  
Sea City welcomes: screaming baby, whining children, silent teenager and nervous wreck.


	3. Leisure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in chapter 7 of the original book.

Afternoon coffee with Dee. It's a staple of the week, one that has its routines and familiarities.  
Usually, there's no distinct tang of salt in the air. And they don't sit on a breezy porch, gritty layers of sand coating the soles of their feet. Even the coffee cups seem more relaxed here: Natalie's is a soft green color, and it fits perfectly into the curve of her hand.

Life doesn't stop on vacation. Meals still need to be cooked, dishes washed, arguments settled. But all these things have absorbed some of the slow, leisurely pace of summer. Buddy and Suzi are (usually) too busy playing with the Pike kids to antagonize each other, and household jobs seem less frantic when they're not competing with work. Having Stacey around is an enormous help - an extra set of hands to turn off the hot plate or slather the kids with sunscreen is invaluable.  
She's been awfully quiet, but she's getting the job done beautifully.  
On the other hand: she's getting the job done beautifully, but she's been awfully quiet.

"I hope I'm not taking advantage of Stacey," muses Natalie. "I'm not sure she's having a good time."  
Dee frowns. "It's not you. I think there's some boy drama going on."  
Dee stirs her coffee vigorously, eyes fixed on their knot of kids playing in the sand. Natalie's gaze combs the beach, running through a mental checklist:  
Marnie: Building/destroying sandcastles with Jessi and Vanessa.  
Suzi: Burying Mallory's feet in the sand.  
Buddy: Playing frisbee with Nicky.

All present. All accounted for.

After a few minutes, she registers the furtive glances that Mallory is shooting up the beach at another, smaller group. Kids building elaborate creations with sand, seaweed, shells and bottle caps. Two teenage boys help them out, dark hair dusted with sand.

 _Ah_.

"So... You ready to raise a teenage daughter?"  
"No," groans Dee.  
Margo clatters up the porch stairs, tossing a cursory "hi-Mom-hi-Mrs-Barrett" their way.  
Natalie sip her coffee, while Dee's spoon clinks erratically against the side of her mug.

"Okay," sighs Dee. "This is what I'm hoping. Tell me if it's stupid."  
"Shoot."  
"Fact number one: Franklin's coming down on Saturday."  
"Right..."  
"Fact number two: he's bringing the rest of the baby-sitters club with him."  
"Mhm..."  
"So... all I need to do is sit tight for three days. Mallory'll be so thrilled to see her friends that she'll completely forget about Casanova over there."

Natalie doesn't answer immediately. It's... a little stupid.  
"It's a little short-sighted."  
"Meaning?"  
"Meaning, even if that _does_ happen, it won't change anything. Mallory won't suddenly start growing down."  
"Yes she will," groans Dee. "In a month she'll be eight, and trying to make the cat perform in some play she's written."  
"Mal's a sensible kid, Dee. More so than a lot of other girls her age."  
"She's also desperate to prove she's grown up. And that boy is four years older than her."  
Margo crashes through the screen door, a roll of tape around her wrist and a large chunk of cardboard under her arm.  
"Can I take that?" she asks, pointing to a large shovel leaning against the wall.  
"Honey, it's too big for the beach. Use your pink one."  
"I don't wanna dig with it, I want it to hold my sign."  
"Oh. Well, okay. Be careful."  
"I will, thanks Mom!"  
Margo drags the shovel behind her, leaving smooth tracks in the sand.  
"Beach Zoo," announces John, ambling onto the porch.  
"What?"  
"That's what she's up to. She and Claire have decided to charge admission to the rock pools, they're calling it a Beach Zoo."  
"Of course they are."

Before long, Claire skips amongst the other kids. Echoes of " _Beach Zoo, Beach Zoo, silly-billy-goo-goo!_ " float towards the porch.

"Care for a walk?" John grins.  
"Sure," sighs Dee, brushing loose hair off her face. "Beach Zoos I can deal with."

Natalie leaves the dregs of her coffee. She follows John and Dee down the porch stairs, the straps of her sandals threaded between her fingers.  
Its been years since she last felt sand between her toes.  
For the most part, it's a lovely feeling.


	4. Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around chapter 16 of the original book, with some dialogue lines taken from canon.

Natalie stares at the ceiling, finding patterns in the peeling flakes of paint. It's almost similar to cloud-gazing. Except it's the middle of the night. And the ceiling doesn't drift and change. And cloud-gazing usually makes her drowsy.

She's never been more wide awake in her life.  
(That's probably not true. But sleepless nights make everything feel more dramatic.)

Franklin and his kids came up for the weekend, and it made all the difference.  
Yes, having John and Dee next door is fantastic. Yes, Stacey has been unbelievably helpful. But those things don't compare to having another adult in the house. Someone to share the burden of responsibility, someone to give a crap if she's utterly exhausted, someone to laugh at her M*A*S*H references.

The place was an absolute madhouse. Seven kids, plus Dawn and Stacey.  
But it was a manageable madhouse.

They left at lunchtime.  
Within a few hours, things began to unravel. Buddy fought with Nicky Pike, ending up with sand in his eyes. Marnie took a spectacular tumble on the porch. Dinner got burnt beyond recognition.

And she _just. Can't. Get. To. Sleep._

\---

"We need to come up with a plan. Just in case."  
She bites back a sigh. He's right. She knows he's right. But the possibility of being hit by a hurricane? It's the last thing she feels like talking about.  
"The situation is far from dire, John," says Dee. "Not yet. The whole thing is still so up in the air."  
"Well, hurricanes _are_ known for being in the air. It's their M.O."  
Dee rolls her eyes. "I mean it could so easily go either way. It could hit us here, but it's just as likely that it'll blow out to sea."  
Half the kids are at the movies, and the other half are on the beach. It's as quiet and peaceful as it'll ever be, so this is the only chance to have this discussion.  
"They're stocking up on food in town," adds Natalie. "And some of the stores are collecting wood to board up the windows. It's not unheard of for a hurricane to hit Sea City."  
"And it's better to be safe than sorry," agrees John. "But we're not in the same position. We don't live here, we have the option of heading home."  
Dee raises her eyebrows. "Are you suggesting we leave?"  
"I'd rather not, especially when there's only a fifty-fifty chance it'll come anywhere near us. But we need to be aware of our options. Things could change any second."  
Dee looks thoughtful.  
"What's our worst-case scenario?"  
"Hard to say. The last hurricane washed out the causeway."  
"They say the road was fortified a few years ago," protests Natalie.  
"They said the _Titanic_ was unsinkable."  
"Is the _Titanic_ going through the marsh?" quips a voice from the doorway. Claudia. Everyone laughs, and the conversation changes its tone. The strategy meeting doesn't end, and it doesn't lose its gravity, but it's lighter. It includes reassurances and explanations, and ends with excited ten-year-olds begging to help John shop for supplies.

Hurricane or no hurricane, it looks like they're sticking it out.

\---

That night, she stares at the ceiling for hours.  
(Who's she kidding? It's nothing like cloud-gazing.)


	5. Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around chapter 19 of the original book, with some dialogue taken from canon.

Today was meant to be a sandcastle contest. Cozily lounging indoors with coffee and a trashy book.  
Today changed. Fast.  
Today has become a high-intensity race. Getting to shelter before this hurricane really hits. (Because the thunderous rain, the shrieking gusts of wind shaking the car - this isn't actually it yet.)

"I can't see the street signs!"  
To hell with the signs; she can barely see the street. She may as well be trying to drive along the bottom of the ocean. (Better get used to it. Maybe she will be soon. _No stop it shut up we're going to be fine.)_  
"Just follow the van's tail lights." How does Dee stay so calm at times like this? Natalie's not sure if she wants to hug her or punch her.  
The kids are crying, all three of her kids are crying and she has to let Dee and Stacey deal with it. She grinds her teeth, knows she'll just have to feel that guilt later. Once they're at this supposed shelter. _Just follow John._ Right, because that worked so damn well on the way here.  
"This stinks," someone mutters. One of the triplets. (She bites her tongue, stops herself from adding a few expletives.)

Hands shaking, she slowly guides the car through a torrential downpour while Dee sings _Rain Rain Go Away_ to Buddy and Marnie.

\---

She staggers through the door, Marnie clinging to her like a wet monkey. Stacey is two steps behind, half-dragging Buddy and Suzi by their wrists. They're all gasping for breath after battling from the car - struggling uphill through wind that almost feels malevolent. They're surrounded by crowds of drenched people, crying children, puddles of water and muddy shoeprints.

"I feel right at home, don't you?" Dee murmurs in her ear. She can barely hear her over the roar of a bullhorn. "Bit quieter than I'm used to, though."

Other people are taking charge, and she's more than happy to let them. She gives Marnie a quick kiss on the forehead and wraps an arm around Buddy and Suzi, standing under a banner emblazoned with _SEA CITY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL WISHES ITS STUDENTS A HAPPY AND SAFE SUMMER_. The crowd is slowly calming down, and before long they're all actually listening to the man with the bullhorn.  
"Mommy, my feet are wet," complains Suzi.  
"I know, sweetie. So are mine."

\---

Dinner: canned ham and canned lima beans. Lovely.

Every child in the room is high on novelty and adrenaline. But, at the very least, it's better than a room of petrified sobs. Or being flung into the ocean.

\---

All night, she drifts in and out of sleep. Every half hour, she's wakened by the wind or the hard floor or the sudden urge to check on the kids.  
She wakes up for good at 5:54, when Buddy rolls off his cot and lands on her stomach.


	6. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around chapter 21 of the original book, with some dialogue lines taken from canon.

A patchy sleep and an inadequate breakfast have left her feeling lightheaded. There's no avoiding the post-hurricane rush, and the drive home feels like a parade route through a ghost town. Car after car after car inches down Main Street, against a backdrop of bright blue sky and motionless Ferris wheel.

Everything looks okay.  
Soggy and windswept, sure. But okay.

"Looks like we were lucky." Dee rolls down her window, letting in the cool morning breeze.

\---

"Anything yet?"  
"Nope!" Stacey leans out the side window. "Are we doing something wrong?"  
Natalie shakes her head. "It's not us, it's the electricity. Power's still out."  
"Well, I guess we _did_ just have a hurricane." Stacey grins.

\---

"I don't think anyone in Sea City has electricity," says John. "It'll take a few days to get things going again."  
Dee brushes her hair out of her eyes. "Things could've been a lot worse. Some minor property damage seems to be the extent of it. It hit Stoneybrook first thing this morning, but it would've been similar there, right?"  
Natalie gasps. "I hadn't even thought about that!" Her stomach clenches, thinking of her little house on Slate Street. She's been too busy with the here-and-now to even give it a thought.  
"Stoneybrook hasn't had much of a mention on the radio. Damn town, it's too small." Dee hesitates. "I suppose we _could_ go home early? Make sure everything's okay?"  
"Nope. Sorry hon, causeway's still closed."  
Dee sighs. "Well, the phones'll be on soon enough. I guess we'll just sit tight until then."  
"We'll have to. We don't have much choice beyond pioneering it the rest of the week."  
"Pick another word," teases Dee. "You're no Charles Ingalls, John."  
John rolls his eyes. "Fine, we'll _rough it_ the rest of the week."  
"Better."

\---

"We've been through the worst. I think we can tough it out the rest of the way."  
Natalie hides a smile when John's announcement is met with cheers.  
Buddy turns to look at her, his face hopeful. "Us too?"  
"Us too," she smiles. "It'll be fun! Cooking out everyday, reading by candlelight..."  
"This vacation is the _best_!" declares Vanessa.

\---

"Hot dogs!" cheers Suzi. "I love hot dogs!"  
"Still? Well, that's a relief," says Natalie. It's day two of Operation Pioneers, and they're eating their fourth barbecued meal in a row. She's starting to think she can never look at a hot dog in the face again. But, really, it's not so bad. Not at all. She can cope with anything, as long as the kids aren't whining about it.  
"Why don't we ever have barbecue at home?" pouts Buddy.

She wants to roll her eyes. She refrains.

\---

On the last night, the entire crew packs into the Barrett living room. They bundle the kids into blankets and listen to Dawn spin a tale about the ghosts in her family's barn, candlelit shadows dancing on the wall behind her. Marnie's fast asleep, and Natalie keeps a close eye on Suzi to see how her second-youngest is coping with the suspense.

Dawn lowers her voice to a whisper. Suzi leans forward, wide eyed with a huge grin. Claire shrinks into Byron's lap, near-identical looks of apprehension on their faces.

By the time the Pikes stagger drowsily home, Buddy and Suzi are both fading. Yawning, Stacey carries Marnie into her little room off the kitchen. Suzi drops off as soon as her head hits the pillow.

When Natalie checks on Buddy, he's lying awake.  
"You okay?" she whispers, sitting on his bed.  
He hugs his pillow. "You know, I was scared when Hurricane Bill came. But now I think it was the best thing about the vacation."  
Natalie laughs. "You were a great pioneer, Buddy."  
"Yeah, like Davy Crockett."  
Natalie starts to sing _The Ballad of Davy Crockett_ , and Buddy chimes in for the snippets he knows.

\---

The morning brings: clear skies, a working causeway, kids with end-of-vacation misery, a long car trip.

She pulls out of the driveway and follows Dee's station wagon, nowhere near as nervous as she'd expected to be.  
She survived the awful trip to get here.  
She survived driving in a hurricane.  
She'll survive today. Probably.

"Bye, house," sighs Suzi.


End file.
